


of hot neighbors and sappy holidays

by yeshomodean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ...yet, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - Not Related, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions of Sex, Multi, No Actual Sex Scenes, No Incest, Not Beta Read, Not brothers, Romantic Comedy, Valentine's Day, bc im a piece of trash, courting, i might add a second chapter, so im sorry for any mistakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 14:42:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10026362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeshomodean/pseuds/yeshomodean
Summary: Valentine’s Day is nothing more than an excuse to blow money, blow dicks and eventually blow them away.  (That is how he reads it, at least.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part of the Rare Ship Creations Challenge.
> 
> Just so you know, I had the entire month to do this. Then I waited until the last week, naturally, because I'm a procrastinator. And then went through 235982394 different ideas, to end up writing the lamest one.
> 
> You know the drill. Unbeta'd, English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. I'd appreciate it if you point out any mistakes, as I'm still learning.
> 
> Also, as mentioned in the tags, I miiiight add another chapter, where they finally get to do the nasty. Want that? Let me know in the comments.

He can’t believe it fucking happened again.

Dean has been living in this building for all of two weeks, and this is the fifth day in a row that he finds some stupid gift right on his doorstep.

The Teddy bear is small, quite cute even though he would never say it out loud, and wears a… knitted sweater? Picking the bear up, it becomes clear to his eyes that the little sweater reads ‘I Wuv Hugs’.

What the fuck?

Before he enters his apartment, as he was getting back from work until he stumbled into the disgusting bear, he finds that a note fell off it and reaches down to grab it.

In neat, elegant handwriting, the note says:

‘Saw you come back home looking pretty upset (and pretty pretty, too) the other day. Figured you could use a bear hug.’

He clutches his fist around the bear and takes a deep breath.

Is all this some kind of joke? Is it some stupid initiation ritual to pull pranks on the new neighbors? Is it just February and the dumbasses that fall for all that Hallmark crap?

Oh, no, Dean can’t stand this dumb, sappy holiday. Hate isn’t a strong enough word to describe how he feels about this shit.

Valentine’s Day is nothing more than an excuse to blow money, blow dicks and eventually blow them away. He learned that from the heartbroken ladies that drunkenly stumbled into his bed from time to time.

He’s not about to feel guilty for that. It’s not his fault said ladies fall for whatever some douchebag promises them, and then dive right into Dean’s pants in some sort of twisted revenge.

That is how he reads it, at least.

But Dean’s not going to go into that right now, he decides as he turns back to the bear suffocating in his tight grip.

He enters his apartment and sighs tiredly as he closes the door behind him. He drops his keys on the table next to the entrance, then takes the bear to the closet door in the hallway. There it finds its new home along a couple of Valentine cards with his name on them, a basket of aromatic candles and a bottle of cheap wine. The chocolates, which came after the Hallmark cards, Dean ate because there’s no way he’ll ever reject free food.

(He’ll drink the wine, too, eventually. Maybe after his bottle of Jack runs out.)

He goes through his routine, as always, a little bothered by the monotony but not enough to challenge it.

As Dean walks downstairs with a garbage bag on each hand, he greets Sam, from 23B across the hall, who returns him a charming smile.

He feels shame when his brain provides him with too vivid, totally not helpful, images of the man pounding him against a wall.

So he’s not exactly a saint, who cares? He’s a busy person. And being busy sometimes means being lonely. And even a little bit afraid of commitment, but no one asked about that. In the end, it’s not like he’s going to push the guy into making his filthy wet dreams come true.

He does, however, hope he doesn’t have to.

When he finally reaches the front door of his building, he finds that he didn’t think through this whole ‘taking all the trash out at once instead of doing two trips’ thing.

He attempts to open the door without having the bag touch it (because germs are nasty things and he cares for his neighbors’ health), and then tries balancing both bags into one hand, but it’s useless.

Then, like a superhero coming to the rescue, his neighbor Castiel, from 19B on the lower level, finds him in trouble and rushes to help. Castiel smiles at him and timidly nods his greetings as he holds the door for Dean to exit.

Dean smiles back at him and takes note of the man’s cheeks flaring red at the gesture.

He likes Castiel. The man’s sweet demeanor has always seemed endearing to him.

That is, though, no excuse for his brain to not show up with images of Cas performing every Kamasutra position with Dean. (And Dean has seen him do yoga on their shared roof, so he knows what the man is capable of.)

To say Dean hates his slutty nature is an understatement.

He tries hard to hide his half-hard boner as he drops his garbage in its place and makes his way back upstairs. People could misinterpret that as a weird trash kink.

Once he’s in his apartment, he locks the doors and heads for the bathroom. He knows it’s all kinds of creepy, but it’s almost part of his routine that he’ll jack off to the thought of either tall and muscular Sam or sweet and bendy Castiel. (Sometimes both, when he’s feeling kinky.)

Thing is, those guys will do it for him way better than any Busty Asian Beauty centerfold. Maybe it was the hair, maybe it was the chapped lips, he didn’t care. He’d quit women entirely if he had a chance to keep either of them for the rest of his life.

So, maybe his crush isn’t as limited to looks as it might seem.

He doesn’t like thinking about it. Good thing is, he doesn’t have to think much for this.

Dean takes his clothes off and gets into the shower, then turns the water on and, finally, grabs his cock.

A sigh of relief makes its way out of his lungs, just as he starts pumping his length and begins letting out soft breaths.

He searches his brain for an appropriate fantasy for the occasion. Since he got to see both men that day, he chooses a filthy threesome setting.

He’s not a big fan of spit roasting or spanking, really. He considers himself quite vanilla, to be sincere. Although, if Sam and/or Castiel were to propose him sex that involved twelve midgets and a goat? He’d be so in.

It’s three minutes and his come splashes the shower wall in front of him. He considers quitting masturbation for a while because, well, he’s not seventeen and has no excuse for such lacking stamina. No way he’ll ever impress any hot neighbors like that.

Dean cleans the wall and finishes washing himself, with the thought of the trashy cars he’d have to repair the next morning. If only people would go back to liking classic beauties like his baby.

And that’s how his days go by. Wake up, work, come back, find some stupid gift on his doorstep, do chores, pop boners, get rid of said boners, then go to sleep.

It’s not what he expected when he decided to move to the big city, instead of staying with his parents out in the country. But he likes his autonomy, likes his job and his little routine. Likes being able to go out and buy whatever he wants down the street, as much as he likes getting tail at any time of the day. City people can be such sluts.

Here, he feels at home. And he wouldn’t change a damn thing.

Turns out, change is not something he gets a say on.

As Valentine’s day approaches, more and more silly bears and cheesy gifts pile up in his closet. He begins to wonder if there is more than one secret admirer because, really, who would spend so much just to get into his pants?

He tries to look for any clues that lead him to whom this admirer could be, but finds only jack with a side of squat.

There’s a moment when he thinks it might be a woman, because one of the stuffed animals comes with a hair attached to its fur. But then he thinks, many guys have long hair. Like Sam from across the hall.

And then he lets go of that thought. He’s just reaching, he knows. Wishing will only make him hurt, there’s no point.

Another time, he sees Castiel coming down the stairs as he arrives from work, and when he sees a knitted scarf resting outside his apartment, he hopes. For a fleeting moment, he genuinely thinks it might be all Castiel’s doing.

But then he remembers seeing the man with some girl, getting real close and snuggly in the lobby, and his hope dies there. It’s not like he doesn’t understand the concept of bisexuality. He is bisexual himself, after all. But he often mixes up his gaydar with his please-be-gaydar, so he knows he can’t trust himself.

On Valentine’s day, he goes about his day as always, ignoring all the ads and promoters he runs into in the street.

Get up, go to work, come back, find some dumb gift-

Except, there’s no gift this time. Maybe his admirer ran out of money? On the last day? Someone didn’t think this through.

Dean huffs a laugh and goes to unlock the door to his apartment...

It’s open.

He’s wary as he enters his home. This building is supposed to be safe, he’s been reassured the thousand of times he asked. He’s so moving somewhere better sometime soon, he swears, he just… he needs to save some money, okay?

That line of thought dies when he finds rose petals all over his floor, creating a path towards the dining room; where three scented candles are lit up and surrounded by even more petals.

He doesn’t notice the tall figure standing right behind him until said tall figure places a hand on his shoulder. Dean reacts on instinct just like his Marine father taught him. He takes said hand and pulls on it until he’s able to throw its owner to the floor, locking the man into that position by straddling his waist.

“Whoa,” Sam mutters, out of breath under Dean’s weight, “Easy, tiger.”

Dean stares at him with wide eyes, only recognizing him thanks to the flickering light of the candles on the table. “Sam? You- You are the one that-”

“Did you start without me? I thought it would take more seducing.”

Dean jumps away from Sam at the third voice echoing across the room. Carrying what seemed to be a lasagna pot, Castiel stands beside the table, cocking his head in an attempt to understand the situation.

Dean looks from Cas to Sam and then to Cas again, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

“So... Will it?” Sam asks.

Dean turns a confused glance back to the man. “What?”

“Will it take more seducing?” He replies, quirking his eyebrows as if it were obvious.  

“What-” Dean closes his eyes and covers his face with his hands, willing himself to calm down for a bit.

“What is going on?”

Castiel walks closer to them, having dropped the pot on the table already. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Are you-” Dean cannot believe he’s actually asking this. “Is either of you the one that kept sending me gifts?”

“Yeah, that was us.” Sam confirms, standing up and offering a hand to help Dean. “As in, both of us.”

When Dean plainly stares at Sam’s giant, calloused, strong hand, Castiel chirps in, “That means we were both courting you.”

Dean blinks, mutedly glancing between the gorgeous men that, apparently, were trying to get into his pants.

“...Why?”

Sam and Castiel share a look, before Sam explains, “Well, you’re hot.”

“And kind.” Says Cas.

“And cool.”

“And look really endearing when you’re upset.”

Dean stops them before they make him flush any more, once again on his feet. “I-I get that, guys, uh… thanks. But I didn’t know… I thought it was only one of you sending me these things, I don’t think I can choose-”

“What? No, Dean, we-”

“We want to date you simultaneously.” Cas helpfully states.

“What?!”

Sam sighs, “Don’t… sugarcoat it for him.”

“I didn’t.” Cas frowns. “I believe it’s best to just come out and say what we want, so he isn’t as confused anymore.”

Looking back at Dean, they discover that no, that does not help Dean understand. In fact, it only makes it worse.

"Great," Sam huffs, "You gave him a stroke."

“I don’t get it.”

“Look, maybe it was a bit forward to suppose that you’d agree to go out with us, it’s just…” Sam looks cute when he’s nervous, Dean notes. “We’re not blind. We can see how you look at us and, well, we were talking about you in bed and-”

Dean thinks he hears a record scratching somewhere in the back of his mind. “Wait! You two are a thing?”

Now Sam and Cas just look at him as if he were stupid. Awesome.

“Yes,” Castiel says, dragging the single syllable, because apparently Dean is too slow for them, “Sam and I are in a relationship.”

“We’ve been together for quite a while and, well,” Sam explains. “We don’t hide anything from the other, so when Cas told me that you’d been ogling him while he did yoga, I told him that I’ve seen you check me out too.”

Dean fights the blush from getting to his face, but it’s useless. He’s probably as red as a tomato as he stares open mouthed at them.

“And then we agreed that we would like to include you in our relationship.” Cas adds, “Although that was only after a few rounds of sex imagining you being involved.”

“Cas, you shouldn’t say stuff like that-”

“Yes.” Dean interrupts Sam’s scolding.

Both men look back at him, asking in unison, “What?”

Dean’s mouth gapes for a few seconds, as if he weren’t embarrassed enough, and then finally speaks, “I’m yours.”

Castiel smirks deviously as Sam tries to talk to Dean.

“Are you sure? I mean, we were aiming for something more than sex. Not that I’m complaining, if that’s all you want, I’m in, I just thought-”

“No!” Dean stutters out, “No, I- I wanna go out with you guys. On a date. I guess.”

“Good.” Castiel says, “Then, if you will come with us to your dining room, we can get to it.”

Dean nods and walks with them towards the table, then stops on his tracks. “Hang on, how the hell did you get into my apartment?”

Sam flushes a bit at that, “I don’t wanna sound creepy or anything, but I can pick locks.”

“We’re sorry for trespassing.”

Dean huffs a laugh and shakes his head, “No problem. As long as you make those fantasies about me come true.”

They all share a laugh and get to eating.

The guys seem to be pretty chill. Dean enjoys having them over, even though they don’t get to do anything nasty that night, he finds them cool to hang with and charming to say the least.

He, however, chastises them for flooding him with Valentine’s crappy cards and all those stuffed animals, as if they were in middle school. Sam confesses that was all Cas’ doing, and Sam was the one to stop him from going over the edge with even cheesier stuff. Cas seems proud, though.

Dean might hate Hallmark holidays. But he can’t deny it; he does enjoy the attention.


End file.
